«Aye. No matter. Come, let us play the game of questions. Few and ill are the thoughts that rise from brooding.»
* * *
For hours they plied each other with queries about their respective worlds. In that ominous place, time could be measured only by meals and the periodic shrieks of «Yngvi is a louse!» About the eighth of these cries, Stegg came out of his somnolent state, went out, and returned with a pile of bowls. These he set in front of the cells. Each bowl had a spoon; one was evidently expected to do one’s eating through the bars. As the troll put the bowls in front of Shea’s cell, he remarked loftily: «King see subjects eat.»
The mess he put in them consisted of some kind of porridge with small lumps of fish in it, sour to the taste. Shea did not blame his fellow prisoners when they broke into loud complaints about the quality and quantity of the food. Stegg paid not the slightest attention, relapsing into his chair till they had finished, when he gathered up the bowls and carried them out.
The next time the door opened, it was not Stegg but another troll. In the flickering torchlight this one was, if possible, less handsome than his predecessor. His face was built around a nose of such astonishing proportions that it projected a good eighteen inches, and he moved with a quick, catlike stride. The prisoners, who had been fairly noisy while Stegg was in charge, now fell silent.
The new jailer stepped quickly to Shea’s cell. «You new arrivals?» he snapped. «I am Snogg. You be good, nothing hurt you. You be bad,
Shea had never in his life slept on a stone floor. So he was surprised, an indefinite time later, to awaken and discover that he had done it for the first time, with the result of being stiff.
He got up, stretching. «How long have I been asleep?» he asked Heimdall.
«I do not know that. Our fellow prisoner, who dislikes someone called Yngvi, ceased his shouting some time since.»
The long-nosed jailer was still pacing. Still muzzy with sleep, Shea could not remember his name, and called out:
«Hey, you with the nose! How long before break —»
The troll had turned on him, shrieking: «What you call me? You stinking worm! I —
Heimdall was laughing silently at the back of the cell.
Shea murmured: «That’s one way of getting a bath at all events. I guess our friend Snogg is sensitive about his nose.
«That is not un-evident,» said Heimdall. «Hai! How many troubles the children of men would save themselves, could they but have the skill of the gods for reading the thought that lies behind the lips. Half of all they suffer, I would wager.»
«Speaking of wagers, Sleepless One,» said Shea, «I see how we can run a race to pass the time.»
«This cage is somewhat less than spacious,» objected Heimdall. «What are you doing? It is to be trusted that you do not mean an eating race with those cockroaches.»
«No. I’m going to race
«The steed is not of the breed,» observed Heimdall, taking the insect. «Still, I will name him Gold Top, after my horse. What will you call yours, and how shall we race them?»
Shea said: «I shall call mine Man o’ War after a famous horse in our world.» He smoothed down the dust on the floor, and drew a circle in it with his finger. «Now,» he explained, let us release our racers in The centre of the circle, and the one whose roach crossed the rim first shall win.»
«A good sport. What shall the wager be? A crown?»
«Seeing that neither of us has any money at all,» said Shea, «why don’t we shoot the works and make it fifty crowns?»
«Five hundred if you wish.»
Man o’ War won the first race. Snogg, hearing the activity in the cell, hustled over. «What you do?» he demanded. Shea explained. «Oh,» sniffed the troll. «All right, you do. Not too noisy, though. I stop if you do.» He stalked away, but was soon back again to watch the sport. Gold Top won the second race — Man o’ War the third and fourth. Shea, glancing up, suppressed an impulse to tweak the sesquipedalian nose that the troll had thrust through the bars.
By and by Snogg went out and was replaced by Stegg, who did not even notice the cockroach racing. As he hoisted himself into his chair, Shea asked whether he could get them some sort of small box or basket.
«Why you want?» asked Stegg.
Shea explained he wanted it to keep the cockroaches in.
Stegg raised his eyebrows. «I too big for this things,» he said loftily and refused to answer another word.
So they had to let the racers go, rather than hold them in their hands all day. But Shea saved a little of his breakfast and later, by using it as bait, they captured two more cockroaches.
This time, after a few victories for Shea, Heimdall’s roach began to win consistently. By the time the man across the passage had yelled «Yngvi is a louse!» four times Shea found himself Heimdall’s debtor to the extent of something like thirty million crowns. It made him suspicious. He watched the golden god narrowly during the next race, then burst out:
«Say, that’s not fair! You’re fixing my cockroach with your glittering eye and slowing him up!»
«What, mortal! Dare you accuse one of the ?sir?»
«You’re damn right, I dare! If you’re going to use your special powers, I won’t play.»
A smile slowly spread across Heimdall’s face. «Young Harald, you do not lack for boldness, and I have said before that you show glimmerings of wit. In truth, I have slowed up your steed; it is not meet that one of the ?sir should be beaten at aught by a mortal. But come, let that one go, and we will begin again with new mounts, for I fear that animal of yours will never again be the same.»
It was not difficult to catch more roaches. «Once more I shall name mine Gold Top, after my horse,» said Heimdall.
«It is a name of good luck. Did you have no favourite horse?»
«No, but I had a car, a four-wheeled chariot, it was called —» began Shea, and then stopped. What was the name of that car? He tried to reproduce the syllables — nyrose, no — neeloase, no, not that either — neroses, nerosis — something clicked into place in his brain, a series of somethings, like the fragments of a jigsaw puzzle.
«Heimdall!» he cried suddenly, «I believe I know how we can get out of here!»
«That will be the best of news,» said the Sleepless One, doubtfully, «if the deed be equal to the thought. But I have looked, now, deeply into this place, and I do not see how it may be done without outside aid. Nor shall we have help from any giant with the
«Whose side will the trolls be on?»
«It is thought that the trolls will be neuter. Yet strange it would be if we could beguile one of these surly ones to help us.»
«Nevertheless, something you said a little while back gives me an idea. You remember? Something about the skill of the gods at reading the thought that lies behind the lips?»
«Aye.»
«I am — I was — of a profession whose business it is to learn people’s thoughts by questioning them, and by studying what they think today, predict what they will think tomorrow in other circumstances. Even to provoke them to thinking certain things.»
«It could be. It is an unusual art, mortal, and a great skill, but it could be. What then?»
«Well, then, this Stegg, I don’t think we can get far with him, I’ve seen his type before. He’s a — a — a something I can’t remember, but he lives in a world of his own imaginings, where he’s a king and we’re all his slaves. I remember, now— a paranoiac. You can’t establish contact with a mind like that.»
